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The Emory Wheel

Graduation Magazine For Emory University's 176th Commencement The Class of 2021

Table of Contents Table of Contents 1 Commencement Schedule and Speaker 2 The Year in Photos 3 Michael Elliott on Leadership and Loss 6 Best Atlanta Coffee Shops 7 4 Essential Atlanta Art Experiences 9 Wheel Senior Surveys 11 Crossword 12 Emory, Vaccinated at Last 13 Senior Reflections

The Emory Wheel Emory’s only independent student newspaper www.emorywheel.com Cover photo: Ally Hom Back photo: Derrick Tran

Magazine produced by Mileen Meyer, Isaiah Poritz, Madison Bober, Ayushi Agarwal, Cailen Chinn and Gabriella Lewis

176th Commencement for Emory University Georgia World Congress Center | Sunday, May 16, 2021 at 10 a.m.

Anthony Fauci to Deliver 2021 Commencement Address By Ninad Kulkarni, Senior News Editor Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) Anthony Fauci will deliver the 2021 Commencement address for Emory College of Arts and Sciences and receive the Emory University President’s Medal, University President Gregory Fenves announced in a student-wide email on Feb. 24. He will virtually address the Class of 2021 live on May 16. Fauci has been in the national spotlight since the start of the pandemic, heralded by the public and media alike as a beacon of truth and transparency on former President Trump’s Coronavirus Task Force. The current chief medical adviser to President Joe Biden, Fauci has served as the director of the NIAID since 1984 and first joined the institute in 1968. Fauci’s speech is part of Emory’s modified in-person Commencement ceremony at the Georgia World Congress Center in Atlanta. He will also pre-record an acceptance speech for the President’s Medal, which will be played during all of the schools’ ceremonies. Fenves wrote that Fauci “has become one of the most trusted voices in medicine for millions of Americans ... and helped carry us through wave after wave of COVID-19.” 1

A recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 2008, Fauci worked as a leading researcher during the AIDS epidemic in the early 1980s and oversaw the U.S.’ response to the Ebola virus epidemic in 2014. Fauci was awarded the National Medal of Science in 2005 and the Lasker Award for Public Service in 2007. He graduated from Cornell University School of Medicine (N.Y.) and received an honorary doctor of science degree from Emory in 2003, one of the University’s highest awards. Fauci will hold both of the University’s highest honors after receiving the President’s Medal. Only five other people have been awarded both honors: His Holiness the Dalai Lama, former U.S. President Jimmy Carter, the late Rep. John Lewis, Ambassador Andrew Young and epidemiologist Dr. William H. Foege. The 2020 Commencement speaker was civil rights lawyer and founder of the Equal Justice Initiative Bryan Stevenson. Hannah Tell (21C) expressed enthu-

siasm about Fauci speaking at commencement. “I am surprised he is speaking at our event,” Tell said. “I think it is exciting given the moment we are at right now, as he has been such a big face during the pandemic.” ◊◊◊

The Year in Photos The Pandemic Campus Experience Election 2020

Caelan Bailey/Senior Staff Writer Isaiah Poritz/Editor-in-Chief Georgia played a decisive role in the historic 2020 presidential election on Nov. 3, as the state turned blue for the first time in 28 years. Emory students spent hundreds of hours registering voters.

Emory students who returned to Atlanta in fall 2020 found a completely altered campus experience, marked by virtual classes and weekly COVID-19 testing.

Emory Administers First COVID-19 Vaccine

The Return of Emory Sports

Courtesy of Emory University Courtesy of Emory University

Emory Athletics resumed intercollegiate competition on March 10, almost a year after COVID-19 forced the University's sports competitions to shut down.

Emory Healthcare administered its first COVID-19 vaccine dose to Nicole Baker, a frontline emergency room nurse, on Dec. 17.

Tragedy Too Close to Home

Biden, Harris Visit Campus

Isaiah Poritz/Editor-in-Chief Courtesy of Matthew Nails President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris addressed the rise in anti-Asian violence from Emory's Atlanta campus on March 19.

A 21-year-old killed eight people across three spas in the Atlanta area, six of whom were Asian women, on March 16. Golden Spa, one of the shooting sites, was only a few miles from Emory's campus.

Leadership and Loss: How a Dean Navigated the COVID Year

By Isaiah Poritz, Editor-in-Chief | May 2, 2021

ate one night in early March 2020, Michael Elliott hunched over his laptop, anxiously typing away at an email draft. Though hundreds of Emory University faculty would see this email, that wasn't what made the dean of the College of Arts and Sciences nervous — he's sent plenty of email announcements in his decade working in administrative roles. This time, he wasn't in a familiar environment. He wasn’t sitting in his office on the fourth floor of the Candler Library or in his Atlanta home. He was in a hotel room in Phoenix, Arizona, more than 1,500 miles from Emory’s campus attending an academic meeting. A day or two earlier, he had received a phone call from Interim Provost Jan Love, who told him what he’d expected to hear: Emory, following the lead of many other universities, would shut down hundreds of classrooms and send over 8,000 undergraduate students home. COVID-19 was out of control, and Emory’s academic experience could no longer remain in person. Love would send the first announcement of the closure on Wednesday, March 11, 2020. The email Elliott drafted would serve as a detailed follow up for faculty days later. A novel, foreign virus that was once a small blip on university administrators’ radars was quickly becoming the defining challenge of Elliott’s career. “If there’s another global catastrophe on this scale, I should look for another successor pretty quickly,” he joked. “But nothing that I will do in this office will rival the complexity and emotional challenge of the coronavirus.” When Elliott went to bed late that night, one Georgia resident in Bartow County had already died from COVID-19, although the state health department discovered that fact months later. Exactly one year later, more than 16,000 Georgians had succumbed to the virus. The next morning, Elliott woke up early and called senior members in his office to coordinate their communica3

tion and troubleshoot the hundreds of problems — from grading changes to the technology competence of faculty — surrounding academic continuity. The University was halfway through spring break, with students and faculty scattered across the globe. The provost’s plan extended the break period by seven days to allow students to return to campus, pack their belongings and move back home. Elliott knew that clear communication was necessary in moments of crisis. A decade ago, when he entered his first administrative role as the director of graduate studies in the English department, the country was still reeling from the Great Recession. Graduate students faced a particularly dire job market as university revenues across the country contracted and fewer professorships were opening. He remembered telling students directly what the College knew and did not know and what it expected for the future, which looked bleak. He attempted a new medium of communication with students on March 17: posting a video message shot in from his office on YouTube. “I was trying to find a mode of communication that could reach people through the deluge of emails that they

were getting,” Elliott said. “I wanted to remind them that there were real people who were trying to assist them and think about the challenges they were facing, and not just faceless names at the bottom of a letter.” Having experience during a moment of upheaval is an immense advantage. Alexander Isakov, the executive director of the Office of Critical Event Preparedness and Response, for example, has a long history of dealing with infectious disease. While his office’s purview ranges from tornado preparedness to defibrillator kits around campus, Isakov’s professional background was shaped by helping guide the University through the 2009 H1N1 pandemic and the 2014 Ebola scare. “Since probably 2000, I’ve been involved in providing training for emergency responders that might need to manage a patient with an infectious disease like SARS or another coronavirus,” Isakov said. “COVID-19 wasn’t something that was out of context at all … We’ve been involved in that kind of education and training for almost two decades.” This experience gave him foresight that many at Emory, like Elliott, did not have. As early as New Year's Eve 2019,

Isakov and his team was monitoring the first media reports coming out of Wuhan, China, of a mysterious pneumonia. By late January, he was in communication with the University’s business administration to model the potential fallout of the pandemic. ◊◊◊ Elliott was still anxious when he booked his flight back to Emory on short notice, though not necessarily for his own health or the immense challenges his office faced — he had great confidence in his leadership team. He was anxious about his distance from Emory, wanting to be back in Atlanta, on campus to solve problems face-to-face with key stakeholders. This goal, of course, proved difficult as the virus’ spread eliminated nearly all in-person gatherings. A leader who wants to recognize the “pulse” of the situation, Elliott finds immense value in physically walking around his environment. Whether it be around campus, where he stops frequently to chat with students, or along the Atlanta BeltLine and in the Virginia Highlands neighborhood, Elliott aims to get a sense of changes in the city he’s called home since 1998. During a pandemic that forced his world into a little box on a computer screen, gauging this pulse became increasingly difficult. Today, Elliott tries to work from his

now-quiet office on campus as much as possible, and he meets frequently with student leaders to discuss their concerns. But the campus is just not the same when residence halls are at less than half capacity, something he remembers telling a family he ran into touring the campus this spring. The challenge of distance struck Elliott's personal life too. He was in Arizona that spring break not only for the academic meeting but also to see his parents in Tucson. He was at a gym watching his father, Butch, work out when he picked up Love’s phone call. Butch had suffered from Parkinson’s disease for the past few years and was attending a gym specializing in restor-

work to address the novel challenges they faced. How would hundreds of faculty members, many of whom knew little about Zoom conferencing or online teaching, transition their in-person classes to a virtual format in a matter of days? Would international students, studying time zones away, have to attend classes at 2 a.m.? How would Elliott and his team respond to thousands of students calling for the University to completely overhaul the grading system mid-semester? He desperately wanted to tell students and professors that he understood their stress, that he understood their dilemmas and that everything would be OK. But he knew he could not state this with any real confidence. The challenges were just too novel, the impacts too disparate between groups. “It’s impossible to overstate how much everybody in leadership - Emory College Dean Michael Elliott wanted to alleviate that stress and that pressure,” he said. “But we were in ing balance for patients who had begun a situation where we didn’t know how to lose mobility. everything was going to work and [stuAs COVID-19 surged this summer, dent] fears were larger than what was Butch’s condition deteriorated great- transpiring at Emory University.” ly, but Elliott was stuck in Atlanta. “Nobody was traveling, nobody even On March 23, the Monday after the thought about traveling,” he said of that extended spring break period, Elliott summer. “And it was really hard for me called a meeting of all College departto get a sense of how badly things were ment chairs to iron out a plan for the semester. With so much about the virus’ progressing for him.” Elliott faced a new point of anxiety spread still unknown, the meeting was upon arriving back in Atlanta: deter- held socially distanced in person, almining how to piece together a frame- though most attended over Zoom. 4

“The loss of a parent is hard to

describe, and I would say because of the pandemic, it's been harder to process.

The meeting’s tone was optimistic, Elliott said, and he felt a sense of relief as chairs discussed future meetings in which they would review their resources and prepare answers to student questions. While Elliott admits that the University had its stumbles and may not have addressed every question as effectively or quickly as desired, he remains comfortable with the decisions he made. As the College dean, Elliott shaped policy based on various groups and academic programs’ motives, and many of the goals he articulates, such as the expansion of career services, had ramifications far beyond the four years that undergraduates spend at the Emory. “I see myself as somebody who tries to communicate a kind of signal through the noise of a very decentralized and kind of wonderfully messy set of programs and faculty,” he said. Jacob Hicks (18Ox, 20C), the former College Council president who served in the position at the start of the pandemic, recalled how Elliott tactfully navigated different University groups’ often-conflicting desires. Elliott always offered helpful advice to student leaders, Hicks said. “As a student leader, and him as a dean, we don’t represent the same groups,” Hicks said. “He’s accountable to faculty and alumni and staff and the Board of Trustees in a way that we aren’t. But at the same time, he was able to say, this is the background that I have and give us the information we needed to do our jobs and advocate for students.” A major challenge that arose after most students returned home for remote learning was changing the College’s grading scheme to be more accommodating during the pandemic. Many students, wanting to eliminate as much stress during the pandemic as possible, advocated for switching all grades to “pass/fail,” while others, who Elliott thought were far less vocal but many in number, wanted to keep the grades they had worked so hard for. Hicks recalled Elliott explaining to student government leaders the nuances of how universities receive accreditation, a factor that limited grading policies the College could adapt. “One of the things that he was really helpful with was getting into the specif5

ics of the language and the timing of these policies, which are really complex but also really important,” Hicks said. “His insight there was indispensable.” Elliott’s solution, developed with input from an April 2020 College Council survey Hicks compiled, allowed students to switch their classes to “pass/ fail” up to the last day of classes or keep their grade. Students could also petition to change a class to “pass/fail” after that deadline had passed. “For some students, that idea of moving toward a mandatory pass/fail semester, was an expression of their desire to advance social justice,” Elliott said. “I appreciate that impetus, but I don't think that would have been the right decision.” ◊◊◊ Elliott has made numerous consequential decisions of this nature over the past year, some informed greatly by a framework of knowledge, others far too novel to harp on past experience. In mid-October, he traveled back to Arizona to make another decision with his mother. This one was heart-wrenching. His father, who he hadn’t seen in months, had reached the point that he needed to move into an assisted living facility. Elliott returned to Arizona one last time during the week of the 2020 election to help move his father into the new home. Three weeks later, Butch succumbed to the disease he had battled for years. He was 77.

“The loss of a parent is hard to describe, and I would say because of the pandemic, it's been harder to process,” Elliott said. “It was really not until Christmas, when my mother came out here for the holiday but my father didn't, that I think his absence really became tangible.” He recounted this story with some ease, however, because he understood long ago that his father’s days were limited. The death was a tragedy, but not unexpected after witnessing many years of decline. For over a year, Elliott has worked nonstop to alleviate stress, for students, for faculty, for his family and has had little time to stop and reflect on this period in his life. “I'm still too much in it to really figure out exactly what difference the year has made,” he said. But after a pause, some obvious, influential experiences, all of which are undergirded by the pandemic, come to his mind: the death of his father, his oldest son beginning the college search, his five-year anniversary of holding the deanship. Or perhaps it was the absence of familiarity, his inability to walk through his environments and gauge the pulse, that has shaped this moment in his life. “What do we miss? We miss real relationships with people. I have certainly never missed traveling more, I’ve never missed crowds more,” he said. “Those are all things I valued before the pandemic, and I think the pandemic will intensify those values, not change them.” ◊◊◊

Best Atlanta Coffee Shops By Cailen Chinn, Chief of Digital Operations and the Wheel's Resident Coffee Expert I’ve spent my free time in Atlanta in a myriad of ways, but one activity particularly comes to mind: trying coffee shops around the city. Whether you like your coffee black or creamy, a flavored latte, or no coffee at all, the 404 has something to offer. So, here is my definitive list of the best coffee shops in Atlanta.

Dancing Goats Dancing Goats (Decatur Square) can be found all over the city, with locations in Decatur and Ponce City Market among others. They serve Batdorf & Bronson Coffee Roasters and offer a host of espresso-based drinks, as well as tea and drip coffee. This shop has served me well when it comes time to grind out an essay or catch up with friends.

Muchacho Muchacho (Reynoldstown) is the coffee shop that I associate with “fun.” The building itself is an old Westpoint railroad station, offering a weathered exterior complimented by a fresh, “California in the 70s” feel on the inside of the cafe. While all of their Counter Culture Coffee drinks rock, my personal favorite is their blue matcha latte, a sweeter, less earthy variation of matcha. Muchacho is perfect for sitting outside (on their tikithemed patio) and digging into tacos, baked goods, or a thick slice of avocado toast.

Chrome Yellow Trading Co. Chrome Yellow Trading Co. (Edgewood) is more than just a coffee shop. Heck, they even advertise as “coffee and dry goods,” and you can get all sorts of things from this little store. On top of great drip from their in-house roaster and espresso from Methodical Coffee, they’re serving pastries from Five Daughters Bakery and Staplehouse and selling goods from local vendors. #ShopLocal has never looked so good.

Aurora Coffee Aurora Coffee (Little Five Points) is Atlanta’s first specialty coffee shop, established in 1992. After nearly 30 years, they’re still kickin’ it with their extensive iced coffee menu. Starbucks cold brew, make way for the “The Bears,” Aurora’s cold brew coffee mixed with whatever milk and flavoring you like. I always go for the Hula Bear, consisting of iced coffee, chocolate milk and coconut syrup. Their patio is great for a group of friends, with long, picnic table style-booths outside and quirky decor and murals inside.

Golden Drops Cafe Golden Drops Cafe (North Decatur) is a Latin-style shop serving South American fare and strong espresso drinks. My favorite drinks on the menu are their Golden and Caramel Lattes, but it’s hard to go wrong here. Both have rich, sweet flavors that pair perfectly with an empanada and time spent out on their covered patio. The space itself beautifully blends indoor and outdoor seating with floor to ceiling windows and spanish-tiled floors that make you feel like you’ve left Atlanta completely.

Spiller Park Spiller Park (Ponce City Market) is as essential to Atlanta’s coffee scene as Piedmont Park, the Suntrust Building or Mercedes Benz Stadium are to the city itself. With locations in Ponce City Market and Toco Hills Shopping Center, they’re fantastic for specialty coffee, serving Intelligentsia for both drip and espresso. Their toasts and baked goods can complete your breakfast while the decor -- all baseball-themed (they call their staff members the “Spiller Park Hooligans,” just like a baseball team) -- will make you smile from ear to ear, knowing you’re rooting for the home team. 6

4 ESSENTIAL ATLANTA ART EXPERIENCES In a city as vibrant as Atlanta, there is no shortage of enriching and entertaining cultural experiences. In an effort to spotlight the best of the best, the Arts & Entertainment editors asked our writers to discuss which arts spots and events in the city make for essential viewing, from Emory performances to Atlanta institutions.

The High Museum of Art

Music Midtown

The High Museum is the premier visual art experience in the American southeast. Originally only a small house gallery in 1926, the High has grown to be a globally recognized institution. In addition to the diverse permanent and visiting exhibitions, the minimalist architecture of the building fashions a serene experience; a place of quiet organization and simplicity in the midst of what can be a chaotic city. The High is located in the heart of Atlanta’s Midtown and less than a 15-minute drive from Emory’s Atlanta campus. Given that the museum is also physically attached to the Woodruff Arts Center (one of Atlanta’s leading performing arts spaces), the High Museum is a critical site for Emory students passionate about art. The High’s permanent modern art collection is an obvious highlight, featuring works from Keith Haring, JeanMichel Basquiat and Andy Warhol. I have fond memories from my childhood of walking through the big white halls of the High and staring at the gargantuan geometries of Ellsworth Kelly and Mark Rothko. There are also extensive sections of American folk art, specifically southern folk art. In this way, the High feels both established and global while also staying true to Atlanta’s southern identity. This unique blend of global art and local charm makes the High one of the most refreshing art experiences Atlanta has to offer. The High remains open during the pandemic and visitors must purchase timed tickets in advance. The museum is open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday and noon to 5 p.m. on Sunday.

As an attendee of Music Midtown in both 2018 and 2019, I can testify that it is a central experience of the Atlanta art and music scene. Music Midtown is a music festival that takes place in Piedmont Park each fall, featuring top and rising artists across multiple genres of music, from rap and pop to alternative and electronic. Billie Eilish performed in 2018 as one of these up-and-coming artists, and she soon skyrocketed in popularity — she headlined for the festival only a year later. The festival also features local Atlanta eats of all kinds to recharge throughout the weekend. A personal favorite of mine, the chimney cakes from Sweet Chimney Bakery are perfect for cooling down after being in a crowd of sweaty strangers. In 2019, as I was standing alone eating my chimney cake after watching Lizzo absolutely kill it on stage, a stranger came up, took my spoon and fed me my own ice cream. They walked away without a single word or explanation. Whether you attend Music Midtown to see the performances of top artists or to indulge in your favorite festival foods, it is a unique experience that you are sure to leave with interesting stories. Although the Music Midtown was canceled in 2020, event organizers rescheduled the festival for Sept. 18-19 this year.

- Jeffrey Rosen, Associate Editor

- Alissa Inzunza, Staff Writer

Rocky Horror at the Plaza Theatre Stepping into Atlanta’s historic Plaza Theatre on any given Friday at midnight, one feels as though they’ve entered an alternate universe. Though everyone is costumed to varying degrees of ostentatiousness, and horror is on the evening’s menu, it’s not necessarily Halloween: it’s another one of the Plaza’s year-round performances of “Rocky Horror Picture Show” (1975). As the cult-classic, schlocky horror sciencefiction musical plays on the big screen, a cast of actors reenacts the film’s events live. What makes the Plaza’s “Rocky Horror Picture Show” performances an essential Atlanta experience is the sense of community they create from the moment you get in line. As you wait to enter the theater, a cast member walks down the line and plants a red-lipstick kiss on all the first-time viewers, or as they are affectionately referred to, virgins. Once the performance begins, the cast frequently pulls audience members onstage to partake in the reenactments.

There is a communal sense of joy as everyone in the theater screams profanities at the screen; this shared sentiment reaches a fever pitch when viewers leap out of their seats to dance to “Time Warp” together. “Rocky Horror” at the Plaza only gets better with each visit. The performers’ wisecracks start to feel like inside jokes, and one can truly begin to appreciate the hard work and love

that underlie the event’s absurdity, all sealed with a lipstick-stained kiss. Although the Plaza is not currently putting on performances of “Rocky Horror,” the theater is showing other films both indoors with social distancing as well as at a drive-through. - Saru Garg, A&E Editor

Emory Drag Show As a bisexual first-year Emory student, people often reccomended that I attend the Emory Drag Show. They were absolutely correct to do so. The Emory Drag Show is a quintessential Emory artistic experience, for LGBTQ+ and straight, cis students alike. The annual Emory Drag Show is usually a packed, vibrant, in-person performance at Emory’s Glenn Memorial Church, which had to be adapted to the Zoom platform this year. While this transition to the virtual platform was difficult for the Emory Pride organizers and it did not necessarily attract as large of a crowd as the in-person event does, the overall Zoom experience was quite successful; local Emory drag queen, Pam, introduced their fellow drag queens and kings, both local and national, as they played their individual recorded performances one after another. Emory Pride executive board member Angel Barru-

eta (22C) felt that even the virtual drag show “strengthened the bonds within the people that were there,” just as the

in-person show succeeds at building bonds in the Emory and Atlanta community. The show creates a safe space for those in the LGBTQ+ community to act like themselves, while also providing space for straight, cis allies to celebrate and support those identities with cheers and smiles. Emory Pride highlights the beautiful drag community, history and culture in Atlanta by featuring the works of many local queens and kings. The Emory Drag Show does a wonderful job of lifting spirits, celebrating Atlanta’s drag scene and reinforcing Emory’s vibrant LGBTQ+ community. It continually provides a platform for the audience to get their minds off of work and support both local queens and Emory LGBTQ+ students. Overall, it is both wonderfully entertaining and purposeful. - Zimra Chickering, Senior Staff Writer 8

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Commencement Crossword Across 1: Seafood staple 5: Anxious, i.e. picking at these 10: TV companion of Billy & Mandy 14: Prefix to god meaning “lesser” 15: Autonomous region in the Himalayas 16: Wander without direction 17: Post Malone hit 20: Renowned Atlanta college ;) 21: Degree recipients 22: Jerome Bettis’ nickname 24: German exclamation 25: Abbreviated clarifications 26: e.g. O’Brien, Cook, Duncan 29: “Star Wars” character with upcoming TV show

30: Farce, deception 32: “Before” in poetry 33: Summer vacation getaway 35: ___-Manuel Miranda 36: As opposed to urban 38: e.g. Shamu 39: Marginal annotations in a text 41: Hushed “hey!” 42: Doomed from the start 44: Onerous high school exams 46: Common dairy milk alternative 49: Suspicious 53: Degree awarded by Goizueta 56: x2, pop star nickname 57: Distantly, standoffishly 58: Founding member of “The Squad” 59: ___ and go, like

breakfast 61: Conservation group 62: Stolen by Prometheus 63: Unrelenting willpower 68: ___ Piceno, Italian province 69: Good luck finding one in a haystack 70: Like sand or a vulgar joke 71: Pesters

Down 1: Atlanta-headquartered federal agency 2: ___ Speedwagon 3: Flummoxed stock character type 4: Literal description of the Golden Arches 5: Liquid thickening agent 6: Local government HQ 7: Aladdin’s monkey

By Aidan Vick, Senior Editor

8: From north of France 9: Gazed at 10: Hiding people go off it 11: Partners of 67 down 12: Legendary actor McKellen 13: Bite-size chocolate candy 18: Insect supposedly able to survive nuclear war 19: Stun gun 22: Muppets security bear 23: Barfly-bearing business 27: Post-work financial plans 28: Liquify 31: 2011 animated bird movie 34: Scoundrel, dog 37: Box-bearing business 39: Western Europe, according to Rome 40: Crooked TV lawyer

43: “Great Unifier” of Japan 45: “Gangnam Style” singer 46: Association, abbr. 47: Respiratory organ common in birds 48: “Oh really?” 50: Common clothing article for comedians 51: “Everything ___ ___” 52: “___ ___ ___ tangent” 53: For the most part 54: Argentine short-story writer 55: Highest or lowest card in a deck 60: ___ Raton, Florida 62: Cliché dog name 64: ___ favor 65: Lou Gehrig’s disease 66: Gallons in a cowboy hat 67: Egg-laying bird

Emory, Vaccinated at Last

Finding My Voice By Julia Zhong “How do you think college has changed you?” This question always manages to pop up in my conversations with high school friends. We’ve all matured in our own ways, but I like to think that I’ve changed the most out of all of us (for the better). My personality is still the same – a quiet and socially anxious person who opens up once you get to know her, becoming the sarcastic “mom” friend who’s honest and tells you how it is. Most of the time, I have taken solace in my silence, reasoning that my thoughts and opinions aren’t of value; someone else can articulate what I’m thinking better than I can. But at Emory, I’ve been able to find my voice in the most unexpected way. To be honest, I was disappointed when I first came here. In my senior year of high school, I began questioning the silence and apathy towards social issues among Asian American students, including my best friends. But I didn’t think I could fit into my high school’s social justice scene – those who were already involved were more eloquent and educated than I was. I decided that college would be where I’d grow as an advocate. However, Emory did not provide any resources specifically for Asian American students, and I was left feeling lost and alone. I followed other universities on social media and constantly wished that I could be somewhere else – somewhere that already had a foundation for Asian Pacific Islander Desi American (APIDA) students through student organizations, Asian American studies or a physical space. This disappointment and frustration led me to push myself outside the limits of my comfort zone – asking professors I had never spoken to before for advice, posting on social 13

media to seek anyone who was passionate about similar issues and connecting with graduating seniors who left behind a little club that met in someone’s apartment called AAPISA: Asian American Pacific Islander Student Activists. I was lucky enough to find a few other first-years, now some of my closest friends, who also wanted to see Asian American advocacy thrive on this campus. Together, we founded what is now APIDAA (yes, we changed the name) and expanded the organization to both Emory and Oxford’s campuses.

I don't think my high school self would've believed or even fathomed that I could be an "activist." I learned from my outspoken friends and peers that my opinions do matter, that the arguments and thoughts I have are valid and unique, that I could take my time formulating my words and that my perspective mattered in our conversations. From participating in discussions about my racial identity, organizing and facilitating events for the greater APIDA community, spending hours canvassing and registering students to vote and speaking with administrators about the need for resources for APIDA students, I found value and power in both my own voice and the collective one of my community. So, how have I changed since high school? I don’t think my high school self would’ve believed or even fathomed that I could be an “activist.” That I would be the one person to speak

up against a problematic statement my professor said in our class. That I could possibly be making institutional changes at my school with people who are strong-willed, thoughtful, sometimes scary and make me laugh until I can’t breathe. Or that I would be here, writing this reflection for so many others to read. I still have my doubts. Most of the time, I hesitate to speak in class discussions and struggle to find the right words to express how I think and feel, telling myself that what I would say wouldn’t contribute to the conversation. But then I remind myself of what I have accomplished at Emory by speaking out – that I’ve used my voice to uplift others and to advocate for myself and my community. My voice has strength, value and power. And yours does, too. Julia Zhong is from Staten Island, New York. She co-founded Asian Pacific Islander Desi American Activists and served as a co-chief of staff. She also served as a resident advisor, research assistant at the Marcus Autism Center, communications chair for Nu Rho Psi and as music director with Ad Hoc Productions. After graduation, she will work as a research assistant at the Yale Child Study Center before pursuing a PhD in clinical psychology.

The True Measure of Success By Roda Kesete “In life, we have a tendency to highlight our successes and hide our failures. If there is one lesson that I have truly embraced during my time at Emory, it is the notion that failure is an opportunity to learn and grow. More than the hours spent reading notes or attending lectures, I believe that the ability to accept failure is the greatest and most transferable skill one can develop in college. Growing up, I was so intensely afraid to fail that I often worked myself past the point of exhaustion, always striving for some measure of perfection that I could never really articulate and certainly never felt like I achieved. I would finish assignments weeks in advance. I would sacrifice time I could have spent hanging out with my friends so that I could study for one more exam or read one more chapter of a book. I would stay up late memorizing notes and wake up early to review those notes again. This fear of failure drove me to overachieve and overcompensate because I attached so much of my self worth and my value as a human to a number on a test or an award at a ceremony. My first semester at Emory was the first time I ever really, truly failed. I took a statistics class and for the first time in my life, my best wasn’t enough to get me the grades I wanted. In that frustrating semester, I realized that sometimes we can try our hardest, give our greatest effort, and things still won’t go our way. I spent countless hours crying, worrying as my first exam and then my second exam failed to reflect the time and energy I dedicated to the class. In the final weeks of the class, I reached my lowest point and broke down crying in my bedroom. I felt an overwhelming sense of inadequacy, as if my inability to achieve my desired out-

come was directly correlated to my intelligence and value as a student. But, sometimes it is in those moments of extreme vulnerability that we embrace lessons that would otherwise fall on deaf ears. I vividly remember calling my mother for advice and what she said to me in that moment changed my entire notion of what it meant to succeed or fail. She asked me simply if there was anything more I could have done to change the outcome in front of me. If the answer is yes, then do that the next time. However, if the answer is no, then there is nothing more you can ask of yourself and you have to not only accept the results, but also be proud of all your efforts. When examined from that perspective, I realized that success isn’t always best measured by the numerical value on a test that you will never look at twice. Rather, success is measured by how much you learned, how hard you worked and what lessons you carry with you from each experience you have. When I changed my mindset and started approaching my academics, and my life generally, this way, I realized that the only kind of bad failure is that where you do not find an opportunity to learn. Four years later, the lectures and readings of that class are a faint memory in my head. However, the ability to approach any situation and be completely content with any outcome, as long as I know I have given my very best effort, is an ever-present theme that I carry in my life. So, if there is one thing that my time at Emory has taught me, it is that the concept of failure is a relative notion that we should embrace and welcome. College, and life in general, will not always run smoothly, but the highs and the lows are where we have the most room to grow.

I have learned through my own experiences, and with the help of my support system, that it is just as important to be motivated and proud of yourself at your lowest point as you are at your highest point. So I not only highlight, I celebrate my failures because I know that each failure encourages me to grow and ultimately, brings me one step closer to achieving everything that I want.

If there is one thing that my time at Emory has taught me, it is that the concept of failure is a relative notion that we should embrace and welcome.

Roda Kesete is from Atlanta, Georgia by way of Asmera, Eritrea. During her time at Emory, she served as co-event chair of the Eritrean-Ethiopian Student Union, mentor for the Questbridge Scholars Program and the 1915 Scholars Program, a tutor for Emory reads, and served on the Political Science Advisory Council. After graduation, she will pursue a Master in Global Governance in Beijing, China as a Schwarzman Scholar before entering law school at Georgetown University. 14

Why Representation Matters — And Why it Doesn't

By Mikko Biana

Each time I took on a new role, I thought about what it meant to be a Filipino student doing these things at a school where very few Filipino students exist. In a way, it brought newfound clarify to my Filipino identity. As much as I act like I hate Florida, I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up anywhere else. I was born and raised in the suburbs of Fort Lauderdale and attended a school that was predominantly Black and of color. I am eternally grateful to have been shaped by friends, teachers and mentors who spoke all kinds of languages, ate food from all over the world, and shared their traditions and lived experiences with me. Something I wish I had when I was younger, though, was exposure to my own culture beyond the limits of my family. My parents immigrated to America from the Philippines in March of 1999, just five months before my birth, and while I knew from a young age that I was Filipino, I struggled to internalize and fully understand what my heritage meant to me. I barely spoke Tagalog (although my favorite Filipino dramas helped me learn) and the Filipino community in South Florida was small compared to places like California and Hawaii. I yearned for the opportunity to connect with my culture in a meaningful way. When I came to Emory in the fall 15

2017, I sought to do just that. While I was hesitant to come to a predominantly white institution, I was comforted by the fact that there was a sizable Asian population. What I didn’t realize was that “Asian” mostly meant “East Asian” — I remember walking around campus and seeing droves of students that hailed from the East Asian diaspora, but very few brown Southeast Asians that looked like me. I thought Emory would help me take two steps forward in my quest to come to terms with my cultural identity, but instead, I reached an impasse. Throughout my years at Emory, I’ve been fortunate enough to become involved in a variety of activities and organizations, such as Residence Life and the Student Government Association. Each time I took on a new role, I thought about what it meant to be a Filipino student doing these things at a school where very few Filipino students exist. In a way, it brought newfound clarity to my Filipino identity, given my assumption that few Filipino students prior to me had been given this space to lead and to serve. However, as I take

time to reflect on my four years, I now know that it should never have been about me obtaining my own seat at the table. It’s so much more than that. I firmly believe that representation matters. But we cannot grow complacent and believe that sitting at the table is enough. No matter how big the metaphorical table grows, it’s inherently exclusionary; it can never be fully accessible to everyone who needs their voices heard. The real work, then, is not finding a seat at the table, but rather, dismantling the oppressive systems that constructed that ever-ominous table in the first place. I’ll always wonder if I ever did enough in my time at Emory — for myself and for our community. I find immense hope in the fact that even if I didn’t, so many others did, and will do so in years to come. Mikko Biana is from Davie, Florida and served as SGA vice president and a diversity fellow in the Office of Undergraduate Admission. He will attend the University of Pennsylvania Graduate School of Education this fall.

One Voice Can Make a Difference By Alexis Greenblatt When I first came to Emory, I wouldn’t have called myself a “political” person. But in the last four years, I discovered my passion to make a difference in my community through political engagement, and specifically, by getting people out to vote. By my sophomore year, I found my niche in leading canvassing events for the 2018 elections. It really felt like we were on the verge of a political breakthrough in Georgia, but when Stacey Abrams lost her race, I was thrown into a spiral of what-ifs: what if I had registered more people to vote? What if I had knocked on more doors? Would it have made a difference? Instead of dwelling on the past, I chose to take action. Throughout the rest of my time at Emory, I spent the majority of Wonderful Wednesdays on Cox Bridge, waving voter registration forms in people’s faces and having (mostly pleasant) conversations with my peers about the importance of voting. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that I have yelled “are you registered to vote?!” at almost every student who has attended Emory in the last four years. I, of all people, know how inconsequential voting can feel; even if the person you vote for wins, it’s unlikely they’ll actually be able to accomplish what they promised on the campaign trail. What keeps me from becoming cynical and losing hope is intense optimism. It’s important to note that I’m not just optimistic, I often say that I’m optimis19

tic to a fault. So optimistic that I act like convincing just one more person to vote might make a difference, or that one politician will maybe change our country for the better. So optimistic, that when COVID struck, I decided to only take one class in fall 2020 so I could dedicate the majority of my time to registering people to vote and working on a small, all-odds-stacked-againstus campaign in a suburb of Atlanta. Armed with nothing but social media and way too much optimism, I played a large part in registering over 500 Emory students to vote last year. And while the candidate I worked for didn’t win her race, we came closer than we ever could have imagined to unseating the incumbent. It has been an incredibly exciting time to be a part of the political world in Georgia, and I am so honored that I was able to help Emory students get involved and make history here last November and again this January. Every time I got a text from an unknown number that started with “I’m trying to register to vote and my friend said you could help…” I felt more sure that change was

coming to Georgia. So, my message to anyone reading this: be optimistic to a fault. Don’t get stuck on the what-ifs, because making an impact in your community is actually a lot easier than it seems. Your single vote or voice might not change much on its own, but your single voice combined with hundreds or thousands of other single voices really could, and will, make a difference. Alexis Greenblatt is from Summit, New Jersey. She served as the President of Fair Fight U for the 2020-21 school year and has been on the executive board of Young Democrats of Emory since 2018. After graduation, she will be staying in Atlanta to work with Georgia Conservation Voters. 16

Practicing Radical Self-Love and Compassionate Activism By Shreya Pabbaraju Indeed, the more and more I started to respect myself, the less disrespect I put up with in my day-to-day life — I made friends and mentors with whom I could be authentic.

As Audre Lorde had put it, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” Armed with glitter and Crayola markers, I remember tacking posters to the walls of my elementary school to protest our school’s waste policy and demand better protection of the environment. My Achilles heel, as a classmate pointed out, was making the posters out of paper. I took note and quickly switched to used cardboard boxes, which all-the-more strengthened the message of the campaign. It was a messy process in learning, but an important lesson in humility at seven years old — listening and learning with an open heart. As I went through high school, I internalized our school’s instruction in “servant leadership,” which advocated putting your community before yourself, or in putting in a set number of community service hours to “make the world a better place.” To be a leader, they taught, you had to sacrifice your mental and physical health and peopleplease. I was too scared to call out our own school’s systemic failures in protecting the well-being of students, and promoting equity for those who simply didn’t have the time to be “leaders” in their account. I didn’t want to make a scene or center myself. When I came to Emory, I underwent a significant reckoning in selflove that made me realize I was in fact a valuable part of that same community my high school had taught me to serve. I learned through my own life experiences that sometimes we need to advocate for ourselves by asking questions, and then asking tougher questions to the people in our lives and the systems

around us. Armed with a pen and notepad my freshman year at the Wheel, I remember fumbling through my first interviews with the Emory administration, eager to learn more about the initiatives they were planning to mitigate student debt and prevent hazing in Greek Life. But I found myself feeling like a scared high schooler once again. I eventually reconnected with my childhood self and started to use those same skills in interrogation in every part of my life. I asked professors and campus organizations tough questions, to encourage them to look inward and listen to student critiques to ensure that they were doing the most good they could for the most people. Talking to people at Emory about how they could better support me, and support students like me, was just as legitimate of a way to make a difference. Indeed, the more and more I started to respect myself, the less disrespect I put up with in my day-to-day life — I made friends and found mentors with whom I could be authentic. I don’t regret for a second speaking up for myself and for others, even when it was scary, because I know that others will benefit from it. It’s time to stop thinking of “the servant leader” as the only form of making change, and uphold radical self-love and listening as valid forms of advocacy. Shreya Pabbaraju is from Duluth, Georgia. She was a Robert W. Woodruff Dean’s Achievement Scholar, president of Pi Sigma Alpha, IDEAS Fellow, a Fox Center and Halle Institute Fellow, campus tour guide, WMRE radio host and managing editor of The Emory Wheel. Next year, she will be pursuing a MPhil in Development Studies at the University of Oxford with the Charles E. Shephard Award.

Planting My Roots By Tara Djukanovic As I sit down to write this reflection, I find myself fixated on my collection of plants. There’s the jade plant my father gave me during freshman move-in. The rose bush gifted to me after an unfortunate event involving a glass of water and my already slow laptop. The abandoned aloe vera I adopted walking home from a birthday dinner in Decatur Square. Over four years and 22 plants, I have made a little garden for myself—one that feels representative of my time at Emory: little things representing little joys and little sorrows. This garden has not always been easy to keep. Plants require space, and love, and time— things that I have not always been capable of giving but have learned to master well enough to allow my plants to grow, and live, and give joy. In many ways, I think plants and college students are not all that different at their core. We both have been taken from our original environment, searching for a place to put our roots down. We both thrive in unlikely places, experiencing growth and stress. And, yes, we both need space, love and time if we have any hopes of thriving. At the beginning of my Emory career, I looked for those things in all the wrong places. I tried to mold myself into an image of a perfect and polished college student. I fought for love from people who were unwilling to give it. I denied myself time to sleep and dream. Yet, in the end, I found it all in the most unlikely places, and I, like many of my plants, learned to grow, and live, and give joy to others.

There are many things I can say about how I made my time at Emory worthwhile, and what I wish I had done better. I can tell you about the importance of drinking water, eating and sleeping. I can tell you never to convince yourself that denying yourself any of those things translates into intelligence and ambition. I can tell you to believe in yourself and never doubt your humanity and worth. These things are all true, yes, but to be honest, when I think about the moments at Emory that made the loneliness, soul-searching, and bad nights worth it, I think about laughing until my stomach hurts on the Kaldis patio—or dyeing my roommate's hair while listening to Lorde. I think about walking with my professor and her dog in Lullwater and celebrating Halloween with good friends and bad wigs. I think about SHINE, and Residence Life, and every Research Team I have ever been a part of, and all the people who have made me laugh hard, or think critically, or feel deeply. Any growth and success I have experienced are wholly owed to these little moments with the people I have loved most. It is owed to my family's sacrifice and the kindness of strangers who became my closest friends. In truth, that is the greatest gift Emory gave me—a community that has given me comfort unconditionally, taught me to give kindness abundantly and let me be myself unashamedly. When I leave Emory, I will also leave my beloved garden—and will be beyond the reach of the wonderful friends and faculty that it has come to represent. Each plant will

have a new home: some will go to my professors and mentors who have empowered and shaped me, some will go to the friends whose presence has given me the greatest joys of my life and some will go to my freshman residents whose Emory journey I am proud to be a small part of. Yet, wherever my plants go, I am certain that they will learn to grow, and live, and give joy in their new environments. Similarly, when my graduating class leaves Emory for the last time, so will we all. Tara Djukanovic is a SerbianAmerican woman from Johnston, Iowa. She served as a president of Project SHINE, the editor-in-chief of The Emory Journal of Society, Politics, and Ethic and as a Resident Advisor and Community Coordinator. She will be attending Harvard Law School in the fall. 18

We find ourselves at the end of four years no one could have imagined—and we are at the start of a new stage in our lives. The precipice of change we have reached has both opportunity and risk, but every friend and experience we have made at Emory will be there to help guide our journey forward. From the late-night food trucks during orientation where I met my future roommate to the weekly Farmers Markets I went to for more vegetarian options, there has been so much to enjoy outside of pure academics. Academics are necessary, but the other experiences are what make college memorable. Rewinding through the years, I ponder on everything I have done and been a part of beyond achieving a degree. In reflecting on my four years of late-night dorm room and Zoom conversations, high-anxiety cramming sessions, and most importantly the countless exceptional people that I’ve met, I’ve found that our time at Emory has been one of constant change. We no longer have a hole in the middle of campus surrounded by a blue fence. Dining is no longer in a tent. And of course, classes have been online for over a year. Adaptability has been forced onto us but will be essential as we leave our undergraduate lives. I see my time at Emory spent searching and constantly adapting to find what I am passionate about and relentlessly pursuing anything that caught my interest. Striving and seeking more at every step comes from a desire to create change. At the core of every decision I make is the goal of making an impact and forming meaningful relationships. For me, that translates to where and with whom I allocate the most time and by far that has been to College Council. I can and have spent hours talking about student government, College Council and the changes Emory needs, which seem to be never ending. My love for improving Emory comes from how ev19

ery change or initiative makes other people happier and strengthens the relationships I have with anyone I work alongside. Leading through uncertainty has allowed me to create connections and relationships that would have otherwise never been formed. Over the summer, a joint event that I envisioned and organized was held on “Responding to Black Victims of Racist Violence and Police Brutality: A Community Conversation.” I remember the struggles in coordinating and trying to host my first virtual event on top of managing all the diversely opinionated organizations involved with the effort. Discussions and connections with the parties involved have not ended since then, and several events stemmed from this initial dialogue. I know that the impact I have made will last beyond me. What I have done may not be associated with me, but the achievements will remain. Responding to student concerns is necessary and often as a student leader I have felt an obligation to speak up because no one else will. I distinctly remember a collective exhaustion in the fall semester as Emory was trying to make it through the first semester online. The repeated interactions I had with almost every friend made me realize the need to do something, so I did. I collected hundreds of testimonies with students’ frustrations and suggestions for Emory to see. I did what student government is supposed to do: I represented the interests of my fellow students and turned their concerns into concrete action. Online course evaluations and syllabi access are structural changes that were implemented because of my advocacy. Ensuring that organizations will be able to spend unused money next year seemed essential to me, and I therefore educated others on the importance of making this happen. There have also been many other conversations started, but the real reforms require persistence

Find Who and What Makes Your Heart Sing By Aditya Jhaveri

and more effort. For instance, the campaign for Election Day Off will continue. Releasing course evaluation data back to students will necessitate more work. Having effective accountability on both the personal and governmental levels is a constant struggle, but it is critical for transparency and progress. I want to add some final thoughts on how you make decisions upon leaving Emory. We have no control over what people say or what people decide to associate with us, yet we care. I urge you to focus on what you can do and what matters—the rest is a result of chance. If you have found someone or something that will make you get out of bed every morning, hold onto that, cherish that. Find who and what makes your heart sing. Aditya Jhaveri is from Brookfield, Wisconsin. He co-founded Remote Area Medical and served as president of the 65th College Council. After graduation, he plans to work as a consultant at Ernst & Young in Atlanta.

Holding Ourselves Accountable By Madison Bober

In her seminal collection of essays "Bad Feminist," Roxane Gay penned the following: "We are free to speak as we choose without fear of prosecution or persecution, but we are not free to speak as we choose without consequence.” As a student journalist these past four years, I could not relate more to Gay’s words. Leading a newspaper means constantly making ethical decisions and confronting the ways in which platforming racist, sexist, classist, ableist and homophobic ideals sows hate and division. To print or not to print a piece

denouncing climate change? A mugshot of a fellow student? The faces and names of undocumented students? As editor-in-chief of The Emory Wheel, I confronted these questions. In the recent past, the Wheel has published mugshots of arrested students and op-eds trivializing American colonialism. While I chose to discontinue some long-standing, questionable policies, I very well perpetuated others. My actions were not without consequence. As Gay so eloquently points out, the broad constitutional prerogative to freely express or publish such information mustn’t be the standard by which journalists — students included — make such decisions. The media must not operate with impunity under the guise of the capital T truth. The public must hold the media accountable. Emory students must hold the Wheel accountable. Journalists are first and foremost public servants. When choosing to use phrases like "racially motivated" or "officer-involved shooting," for example, news outlets must acknowledge the way in which

their words can fortify white supremacy and invidiously harm Black, Indigenous and people of color. The tides seem to be turning. Journalists of color are rightfully staking their claim in newsrooms nationwide, and previously untold stories of the plights and triumphs facing marginalized communities have come to light. The onus, however, must not fall upon journalists of color; white writers must be meaningfully educated on how to weave race and identity into the narrative of every story they cover. Whether the movement to rethink journalism ethics is lasting is up to the public and media leaders. We must not grow complacent under the auspices of the current moment; we must hold each other accountable, relentlessly. Madison Bober is from Hollywood, Florida. She served as editor-in-chief of The Emory Wheel. After graduation, she plans to attend the University of Pennsylvania Law School.

Make the World a More Resilient Place If you were to ask me, “How are you liking Emory?,” my response would be “Emory changed my life.” What a cliche review, right? But, as cliche as it may be, it is the honest truth. Emory is a unique place filled with unique people. As I would walk through the Tuesday Farmers Market on Cox Bridge, I would reflect on the beautiful serendipity that Emory encapsulates. How fascinating it is that each of us found a calling that brought us to this campus. I would ask myself, “What is the one thing that all Emory students have in common? What brought all of us, in our differences, to the same place at the same time?” This question stayed with me for the last four years. Finally, as a senior and a member of the second “pandemic” graduating class, I believe I may have found part of the answer. Emory’s students are resilient. We are a community that refuses to accept the status quo and a community that will unite to demand the best from the institutions that we support and represent. I think this is what sets Emory apart and why I accredit Emory for the transformation I have undergone since arriving in August 2017. From the moment I moved into my LSM dorm, I knew that I had made the right choice. It isn't a tangible feeling but a sort of intuition. I knew that I was going to be changed for the better, whether I was ready for it or

not. I suppose that is the goal of any choice we make in life; we hope that it transforms us and takes us further down the path to our full potential. What I have loved most about Emory is the environment that allows students to realize and meet their potential. If I were to speak with a freshman, I would advise them to use their time at Emory to step out of their comfort zone. College is a time to be open to all possibilities: to meet new people that you would have never met otherwise and take risks to explore your own truths and values. Allow the different perspectives, backgrounds and stories of your colleagues to help you develop as an individual. Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable, share your beliefs with others and have conversations about what really matters. What you remember most in college is not your GPA. You will look back on the mysterious joy that comes about after countless hours in the library, laughter shared with the friends you run into in the campus Starbucks and last-minute runs to Ali’s Cookies in the Village. So, how has Emory changed my life exactly? By teaching me to be where my feet are. To never look too far ahead nor focus on what has already passed. Learning to embrace the difficult days as much as the easy ones. Resilience is more than fighting to move forward - it is accepting what is in front of you

By Leah Saunders

with an open heart and mind. The diplomas that we depart with represent the resilience that we have exhibited for the last four years and the character that will guide us for the rest of our days. I wish for all who enter the Emory community to fully embrace the beauty that surrounds us and use this beauty to make the world a more resilient place. Leah Saunders is from Greenville, South Carolina. She is a captain of the Emory Volleyball Team, member of Alpha Delta Pi Sorority's Diversity and Inclusion Committee and co-founder of Emory's Black Letter-Winning Athlete Coalition. After graduation, she plans to pursue her master's degree in anthropology.

The Best Four Years, But Not Right Away When I made the decision to come to Emory four years ago, my friends and family were thrilled for me. But with the hugs and congratulations also came endless advice and words of wisdom, as probably any college student can relate to. One of the most popular remarks was, “College will be the best four years of your life. Embrace it”. Developing such high expectations was overwhelming, but also exhilarating. Who wouldn’t be excited about embarking on an adventure like that?

A great friend once told me that "we challenge Emory because we love Emory," and I couldn't agree more. My first few weeks at Emory were anything but “the best.” I arrived on campus and immediately felt lonely in a foreign environment, unsure of who I wanted to be or who I could rely on for support. The growing pains were tremendous. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t having “the best four years of my life”. What was I doing wrong? Should I have picked a different school? These feelings didn’t disappear right away, either. I remember 21

throughout my first year at Emory, even as I made friends and became acclimated to my new life in Atlanta, I would still have doubts about my identity and trajectory at Emory. With graduation now on the horizon, I can confidently say that, yes, college can be one of the best times of your life, as it was for me, but it doesn’t happen right away. Looking back, it took months, if not years, to feel as though I finally “fit in” and made Emory a home. Through that experience, I learned that what you will get out of your four years at Emory depends squarely on what you put into them. A major critique that I often hear of Emory is that there’s no school spirit. While there’s no denying that we certainly lack the tailgating and sport-driven culture that you might find at a larger state-school, I would defend that school spirit at Emory manifests itself in a more personal, individualized manner. It’s curated by each student and looks different for everyone. While this isn’t inherently negative, it does mean that students have to take initiative to figure out what Emory will mean to them. For some, passion for Emory might be rooted in the arts or research, but for me it actually began with running for Complex Hall President during my first year (and my incredibly embarrassing campaign video still lives on YouTube as evidence). While very intimidating, it was probably one of the best decisions I made at Emory as it laid the foundation for my remaining three years. This experience and many that followed taught me that it takes concerted effort to find the pockets of Emory that fulfill you; it won’t

By Lori Steffel happen automatically, but it is well worth the initiative it requires. I can confidently say that I had an incredible four years, but they didn’t start that way; it was the product of investing time and energy into what I cared most about. By no means is Emory perfect, but love and critique are not mutually exclusive; a great friend once told me that “we challenge Emory because we love Emory,” and I couldn’t agree more. I slowly learned to be deliberate with my time and only dedicate my energy toward the people and activities that most fulfill me, and that’s why Emory will forever be one of the best experiences of my life.

Lori Steffel is from Glenview, Illinois. She served as the Student Government Association president. After graduation, she will be working in finance at Truist Securities in Atlanta.

Seek New Opportunities women there impacted me tremendously and were true role models. And lastly, I cannot forget my family, who loved me from afar and whose presence I felt every step of the way. Overall, Emory has given me everything I needed. Every moment spent here has been one to cherish. I want to encourage Emory students to follow these pieces of advice: 1: Don’t be afraid to fall in love with new things, and seize every opportunity to learn something new. 2: Do everything with your heart because then you will always succeed. 3: Be present in every moment, and always give your best. Emory shaped me into a more courageous version of myself, and I am now ready to conquer many new adventures.

By Zakiya Collier These past four years at Emory have granted me everything I wanted, though I did not know what all was to come. As a freshman, I was excited about all of the new possibilities at hand. I am so proud of myself for taking a courageous step towards my future. As early as my first semester on campus, I held leadership positions. I actively sought out ways to be involved and serve my community while building my confidence. Each club and organization I dedicated my time towards was an intentional decision as their purpose aligned with my own values. Emory has taught me to value relationships, extracurriculars and social events just as much as my academic path. I continuously pushed myself to achieve everything I believed in and more. I have learned the value of viewing college as a holistic experience. The ability to learn is always at your fingertips; therefore, you have to capitalize on any opportunity. The relationships I formed were more than necessary to get to graduation day.

First, I want to thank my friends: together, we overcame so many challenges. Next, my professors, who have been patient and compassionate. I couldn’t ask for a better support group. Even from faculty members who saw my potential when I did not see it myself, especially those at my work-study job — the

Growth Isn’t Always a Pretty Process When employers ask me who I am and when

quit everything I was doing, but I stuck it through,

relatives ask me what I did in college, I instinc-

convincing myself that the next day, week and

tively proceed to answer their question with my

month would be better than the previous. In my

laundry list of accomplishments: I created a 680

four years of college, I think of the pretty picture

sq.ft. mural in the center of campus; became Em-

that was painted for me — parties, going out,

ory Crew’s Womens Captain; was president of the

“the best four years of your life” — and how, in-

arts organization, The Pulse; I received a couple

tertwined with all that greatness, are a whole lot

of awards, etc. But for whatever reason, these

of ugly, difficult and challenging moments. Those

things don’t feel like they truly encapsulate my

moments are the ones that defined my growth

experience at Emory.

and self-discovery over the last four years.

When I think of my four years here, I think

My biggest piece of advice for anyone read-

of so much more. I think back to my first semester

ing this is to remember that, regardless of how

of college when I had a 2.8 GPA because I hated

amazing you are, there will always be people —

school and studying, and I feared that I would

some that you see five days a week, every week,

never do academically better for that reason. I

for years — that will never appreciate all you have

think of sophomore year when two leadership

to offer. But you should never let them make you

roles were dumped on me in the same week, and

doubt your greatness. Ignore those who fail to

I almost rejected both because I was afraid I was

treat you with the respect you inherently deserve.

unqualified for the positions. I think of the days

Be stubborn in your perception of yourself and in

I sat crying in my room, so frustrated with the

your goals — be unhinged when others criticize

fact that I had to work a part-time job since high

and judge you. Surround yourself with the people

school and in college because, unlike so many

who do appreciate and support you, and make de-

students at Emory, money was always an issue to

cisions based on what you want. You are valuable

be feared. I think of the times when I wanted to

and talented. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Zakiya Collier is a student activist from Chicago, Illinois. She served as the president of Emory's NAACP chapter, the president of the Alpha Tau chapter of Zheta Phi Beta Sorority and a MORE mentor in the Office of RACE. After graduation, she will be working at a nonprofit.

By Claire Pomykala

Claire Pomykala is from Baltimore, Maryland. She served as the women's captain for Emory Crew her junior year, and was co-president of The Pulse for her junior and senior year. She also initiated and led the creation of the Cox Hall mural and has been a student representative for several campus committees. Claire will be going on a 1000-mile bikepacking trip from Atlanta to Baltimore after graduation.

Congratulations Seniors!

Laura Neff

It has been such a pleasure to watch you grow into a beautiful and confident young woman. Congratulations on achieving such a great accomplishment! You bravely took on the world, moved many miles away from home, and still managed to graduate in such a hard field on top of your class. Follow your dreams, stay humble but never settle for less than you deserve. You inspire us every day through your joy for life and your contagious laughter. Your dad would have been so proud of you. We will always be there to support you. Love, Mom and Ryan Grandma, Sheila, Madison and Jonathan

Congratulations Seniors!

Siobana Coral Navarro Quiñones

Class 2021 We are so happy and proud of all your accomplishments knowing you worked hard and performed at the highest level! Keep pursuing your dreams and never change your spirit and love. Dios te bendice siempre… Te aman Papi, Mami, Ferdinand, Leia y Mina! (May 16, 2021)

Congratulations Seniors!

Heart Filled Congratulations Drayson! Your perseverance and individualized creativity has blessed you with an accomplishment of a unique few. Our family will always support your vision. Embrace your gratitude for those whom you shared your path of success. Empathize with your patients as a future medical doctor at The Ohio State University, College of Medicine. Love you to the moon and back, Mom, Dad, Ellie and your entire extended family

Congratulations Seniors!

You’re off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting, so … Get on your way! -

Dr. Seuss

We are so very proud of you and all of your accomplishments! We can’t wait to see what the next chapter brings! Love, Mom, Dad and Mackenzie

Congratulations Seniors!

Congratulations Class of 2021 From the Office of Spiritual and Religious Life, your presence at Emory has been a joy and a gift and we hope you will stay in touch with us. May you go forth into the world in peace, be of good courage, hold on tight to that which is good, and may those to whom love is a stranger, find in you a very good friend. May you be blessed and be a blessing today and always. Congratulations Class of 2021!

Emory University Office of Spiritual and Religious Life Team From left to right top row: Brahmacharini Shweta Chaitanya, Hindu Chaplain; Zachary Cole, Chief of Staff; The Reverend Greg McGonigle, Dean of Religious Life and University Chaplain. Middle row: The Venerable Priya Sraman, Buddhist Chaplain; Sandy Francis, Assistant Program Coordinator; Lakishia Hines, Executive Administrative Assistant. Bottom row: Dr. Isam Vaid, Muslim Religious Life Scholar; Maury Allums, Director of Music and Voices of Inner Strength Gospel Choir; Rabbi Jordan Braunig, Jewish Chaplain.

Congratulations Seniors!

Congratulations Gwyneth! Class of 2021

Congratulations Seniors!

Congratulations Louie Kangeter • Emory Class of 2021 •

Lu congratulation on your graduation, the launch of FANBASIS & your new role as President! Love Mom, Dad & the entire CASS Family!

Congratulations Seniors!

MOLLY BLAUSTEIN

Congratulations Seniors!

Dear Lena, Who would have thought that when we dropped you off at Oxford-Emory (obviously read in a British accent) four years ago, you would be graduating in the middle of a global pandemic in front Dr.Fauci himself. We are so incredibly proud of the strong-willed, determined, compassionate, and genuine human being you have become. We are excited to see what the future holds for you as we know it will be bright. Congratulations to the Class of 2021! Love, Mama, Papa, and Anna

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Congratulations Seniors!

Neha Arora

We are so proud of all your accomplishments. May you always keep smiling and spreading the joy to everyone around you!

Love, Mom, Dad, Nikhil, Molly, Nanoo+Nani, Dadaji+Dadima

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Congratulations Seniors!

EMORY 2021

Creative Writing & Film

EMMA KANTOR You are extraordinary, always have and always will be. We love you! Mommy, Daddy, Sophie, Isaac and Archie

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